Ch.14 : Downfall Of A Barbarian King
A new message was sent to the wizard Aribor in Bricas. He had responded to the name of Remzain, he could do no other. A meeting with beautiful Remzain was arranged. She went with Pelancirian guards in plain clothing, to stay nearby, but at some distance, so as not to alarm the Grumandrian wizard.
Aribor looked very different from the frightening barbarian sorcerer he had been when she had first been made subject to his contract on the day of the conquest. He had taken to washing, in the Shalirionite fashion. His hair, still long and greying had been cut to tidier length, and had been dyed to turn the natural greys into softer brown. He wore not the dark robe of a sorcerer of Grumandria and currently bore no arms or armour on his person. He had chosen lighter coloured robes of Shalirionite style, yellow and orange with white patterns. His formidable moustache had been manicured and he was completely beardless. It surely did appear that he had taken to many of the ways of Shalirion and Bricas, where he now resided.
They greeted each other respectfully at arm's length, despite the physical intensity which had once passed between them. Both, perhaps for different reasons, seemed in awe of each other.
To her questions he explained his behaviour at Bricas and said he was more humane and sensible now. "I see the spell I was under with Guthelm and Valdark, but now I am reluctant to use my darkest arts. I no longer serve Guthelm. I realise the errors and the evil of our ways. Neither do I serve King Charlerion. I do not see why Charlerion should depose Guthelm and take over Grumandria. I think Grumandria should remain Grumandrian, but I do not see who should rule. I suppose it might be possible for Charlerion to carry it out, but it is no business of mine.
"Remzain there is only one deal I might do with Charlerion for his aid, and that would involve him giving you back to me. I do not see him doing that because you are very beautiful and he will want to keep you. I know this."
"I do not think he will do that," said Remzain, knowing Charlerion would not, but feeling insecure at the thought that her master might use her as a bargaining counter to further his ambitions.
"I do not think you want to be returned to me either," said Aribor, showing understanding which he would not have betrayed in his past life.
"No, I do not. Charlerion treats me well, and I have a passion for him, although I do not wish to see him control my homeland."
The wizard deliberated momentarily, "Well, if he wants my support enough he could lease you to me. That is a deal I would do to offer my sorcerous assistance. Go back to him, tell him he could lease you for a period, or give me a once weekly access to your bedchamber. Will you do that for him and for me?"
A naughty smile crept over her face. To defeat the scourge of Grumandria, to satisfy her master Charlerion, and to reward Aribor for his changed ways she might just do this. A deal might be possible. Charlerion had used her with his friends and lovers in his orgies. He might not be averse to using her in this way, as long as it was not made into a public spectacle.
"Charlerion has given me permission to strike such a bargain with you before I came here. I do this on his behalf, after all. He will not give me up for a period of time, as he wants me in his own bed and at his own disposal much of the time, but he will allow you to have full use of me for one evening in each week of a full year starting from the present moment, as long as you work hard towards the task of removing Guthelm, by killing, or by some magic which might remove all his power permanently and leave the throne of Grumandria open to King Charlerion. You are guaranteed the full year whether or not we are successful in our venture, but its continuation will only be allowed if you are successful in removing Guthelm or have had a significant part to play in his downfall by then. In the event of success you may claim another second year of weekly access. My master Charlerion will have control over where I may be on his business, but you will be guaranteed access to me on one regular weekly night. It will be up to you to be at my side on that evening wherever I may be You must leave me no later than 1 o clock of that night, and you may sometimes choose not to be at my side if you are engaged in your mission or are travelling elsewhere."
"I can agree to that, Remzain. I desire very much to have you again. I don't owe Charlerion anything, and I do not do any of this for him. I see this as a way to end the chaos of Guthelm. That is why I can accept this task. But it is our agreement which enables me to enter the risks and challenges of this task. It is my necessary reward.
"Can we begin our agreement now?"
"Yes we can, if that is your wish. We have clinched the deal. But first let us shake hands to seal this deal," she insisted.
They both stood and came forward to meet in the middle, extending their right hands. At first touch they both felt the power and significance of this contract, even though Aribor employed no magic in this contact. They kept their hands together. He was unwilling to break the contact. Finally after minutes in which they surveyed each other, she broke the contact. The deal was sealed, and now it was about to be sealed again in a more physical way. She unclasped her Animarian dress at the shoulder and turned.
"Please, unclip me," she invited him.
He reached to her back and unclipped her. The dress fell away to reveal her slender and beautiful flesh. There remained undergarments. "Help me," she invited. As pants fell down her legs, he spun her round to unbutton the front of the undercloth. Her nakedness was fully revealed, as wondrous as before. She had lived well these last months in the new palace of her master, but her relative youth had preserved her beauty intact. He surveyed her as crudely as he had before, but now the contract was one of equals, of free choice, despite her subjugation to Charlerion.
The 'Old' Aribor in Animar: Guthelm's Servant
He entered the village, after the rebels had been put to the sword. Bodies of menfolk lay all over the village green. Eyes gouged out, stripped of their armour, and brutally executed. The soldiers divided the spoils. The village women, young and old were the only people left alive. Soldiers argued over which women they could have.
Aribor laughed at them when some soldiers started fighting each other over the pretty women. "Stop fighting you idiots. Save that for the King's battles! If you want the same women toss a coin between you or take your turns. That is the best way, better than losing your legs or your head over a pretty woman. There are plenty to be had, enough for us all."
He watched the soldiers take the women into the huts. Some of them shared the pretty ones at the same time, but others were unwilling to be watched while they took their pleasurable rewards.
Seeing the men take the women put the sorcerer in a lustful mood. He decided to see if he could find a woman or two. As he looked at the unselected women he realised quickly that the best looking women had been selected. The women remaining were old or unattractive in some way. These villagers were careworn and haggard by hard work and by the trials of the recent weeks of rebellion. Most of them looked older than they probably were, but this life brought them down. There were none here who appealed to Aribor as they were. He was used to fresher or more attractive 'meat'. But Aribor was a sorcerer, a very experienced sorcerer. There were spells that could use the essence of a woman and bring back her youth temporarily. There was a cost, because the woman so used could be left weakened by the borrowing back of the years, and would return to age again within hours or days depending on the strength of the spells. The woman could be aged by the experience or would take longer to recover. The very old might die when they returned to age, from the effort of their restoration. Aribor cared not for the lives of these women. They were rebels and enemies of his King, bound now only for subservience for the rest of their lives. They might die sooner or later. It mattered little which. All of them, loyal subjects or rebels, Grumandrian or foreigner, soldier or wizard, all would die sooner or later. That made all the more reasons for him to enjoy life, when it offered any pleasure, whenever he could find it, and to live his life for the present. In an uncertain world no one could guarantee a safe future. He pledged to take the most pleasure from life when he could.
He surveyed the women. Old and haggard as they might mainly be, he did not particularly feel attracted to the younger ones amongst them, but some of the older ones had bone and flesh structures which appealed much to him. He used his insight to imagine them younger, and found a number of them much to his liking. He ordered some of the soldiers to keep a number of his favourites for him while he selected one older lady to work on. Now the fighting was over he found he relished his period of reward. He led her to a house and began his magic without further ado.
Grumandria
Lord Nathor was the Lord of lands in Grumandria. He had ridden to war for his King. He had blood on his hands for the service he had given. He and his men had killed opponents in the borderlands and the other lands of Animar, and now they saw service in distant Shalirion where his King sought pillage and conquest. He had been here some time now, and not all campaigns were proving successful. The Shalirionites were putting up more resistance than at first, and had even managed to defeat Guthelm in the Cromil valley. He missed his wife and children. He requested Guthelm to be allowed to return home to sort affairs out and see his family. Guthelm, in a rare moment of charity, did give his servant leave to return home for a period, to set his affairs in order. He returned to his homeland in high expectation, hoping to find that all was well and his wife and children well looked after and prospering for the services he had been giving for his people and his King. He found marauders and local sherrifs had corrupted his villagers and tenants, screwing the villagers with no recourse to law and order. Some of his villains had been unjustly hung for treason. He was angry.